Gareth went red, eyed Geena’s earrings and obviously decided to leave that battle for another day. Instead he turned on Jazz.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Preparing to land my spaceship on the moon,’ Jazz replied calmly, tying the last corner of her poster in place. ‘What does it look like?’
‘Do you have permission to put these posters up in the playground?’ demanded Gareth.
‘Yes, we do,’ I said, not missing a beat. ‘We have permission from the Big Cheese himself, the King of Coppergate School, the one and only Mr Morgan.’
This was stretching a point, I admit. But Mr Morgan had said how pleased he was that we were showing initiative, so I was almost sure he wouldn’t mind. Besides, if Gareth wanted to check with him, it could take weeks. Ha ha.
‘I’d invite you to come along to our sale, Gareth,’ Geena remarked, ‘but unfortunately for you, we won’t be selling charisma and personality.’
Jazz and I giggled.
‘I didn’t think you would be,’ Gareth retorted. ‘After all, you’ve hardly got any to spare, have you?’
And he marched off, leaving Geena with her mouth open.
‘You and Gareth really don’t like each other, do you?’ Jazz said.
‘Never mind that idiot,’ Geena muttered. ‘Let’s get these posters up.’
We distributed the posters around the playground and were just putting up the last ones when George Botley appeared at my shoulder.
‘Hey, Amber, did you see Who’s in the House? last night?’ he asked. ‘Reckon Molly will get evicted?’
‘George, much as I would love to stand around discussing the merits of poor-quality TV programmes with you, as you can see I’m very busy,’ I said pompously.
‘Oh, yes, the yard sale.’ George peered at Jazz’s brash poster and blinked slightly. ‘Lucky I got you that appointment with Mr Morgan, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, thank you, George, I’m extremely grateful,’ I said with a sigh. Then a thought struck me. ‘By the way, George, are you ready for your next assignment?’
‘Yep, the James Bond of Coppergate, that’s me,’ George replied.
‘Don’t get above yourself,’ I retorted. ‘Here’s a nice easy one for you. Get as many people as possible to come to our yard sale on Saturday.’
‘No probs.’ George strolled off, looking smug.
‘And don’t promise everyone Molly Mahal’s autograph this time,’ I called after him.
Looking slightly disgruntled, George nodded.
‘So how much stuff have you two collected for your stalls?’ Jazz asked.
‘Not much,’ Geena said, too quickly.
‘Hardly anything,’ I said, also too quickly.
‘Oh, I believe you, of course,’ Jazz scoffed.
By the end of the week I was well pleased with what I’d stashed away under Dad’s bed. In fact, I’d had to lock the overspill away in the bottom of his wardrobe. I had some great stuff and a lot of it was designer, which meant I could charge higher prices. A lot of it had also once belonged to Geena and Jazz. Well, please. If you’re going to leave lovely sunglasses and T-shirts and trainers and make-up and perfume all around the house and never use them, you aren’t going to miss them, are you?
Auntie had also taken the three of us up into the loft and then refereed the free-for-all scrum that followed. After Jazz and Geena had a tug of war over a handbag that nearly resulted in Jazz falling into the water tank, Auntie had made sure that everything was divided up fairly. I was still convinced, though, that I was going to have the best stall, packed with designer goodies.
It was almost time for the Friday-night edition of Who’s in the House? to start, and I didn’t want to miss it. We’d find out today if Molly Mahal was going to be kicked out. I’d just popped into Dad’s bedroom to add a Stila eyeshadow kit to my stash (it was Geena’s but she’d never even opened it – what a waste of money!) when, on my way down the stairs, I saw one of Baby’s suitcases lying open on my bed. Even though I’d cleared out my wardrobe and chest of drawers for her, Baby hadn’t bothered to unpack. My eyes widened at the sight of all the clothes, shoes and make-up spilling out of the case. Even peeking between the banisters I could see Gucci, CK, DKNY, Versace, Armani . . .
‘What are you staring at, Amber?’ Baby suddenly popped out from behind the door and looked at me suspiciously. She’d changed out of her school uniform and was now wearing a pale pink fluffy sweater, cut-off denims and white sky-high heels. The perfect outfit for lounging around the house watching TV.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It’s not illegal to look into one’s own bedroom, you know.’
‘Depends why you’re doing it,’ Baby retorted, closing the suitcase with a snap. ‘I keep my cases locked by the way. In case you and your sisters are thinking of thieving anything.’
‘You’ve got a nerve—’ I began, but the doorbell interrupted me.
‘That’ll be Rocky.’ Baby bounced out of the bedroom and dashed down the stairs, throwing me back against the wall.
‘Rocky?’
‘He’s coming to watch Who’s in the House? with us,’ Baby explained.
I followed Baby down the stairs in time to see Auntie make it to the door three seconds before she did. Auntie ushered Rocky in and then stared pointedly at him as he moved to give Baby a kiss. Rocky panicked, lost it and ended up shaking Baby’s hand instead.
‘We’re all in the living room, Rocky,’ Auntie said, taking his arm in a grip of steel. ‘This way.’
Rocky was borne away by Auntie, leaving Baby trailing sullenly in their wake. I went down to the living room myself, where Uncle Jai, Geena and Jazz were already waiting. We all sniggered (well, Geena, Jazz and I did) when Auntie put Rocky at one end of the sofa and Baby at the other end. She then sat down in between them.
‘This is just like A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ Geena remarked. ‘You know, those lovers Pyramus and Thisbe who can only talk to each other through a hole in a wall.’
Rocky and Baby were now staring yearningly at each other behind Auntie’s back.
‘Thank you for that, Geena,’ Auntie said tartly, leaning back to cut off their view.
The front door banged shut and Dad rushed into the room, dropping his briefcase and loosening his tie.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he gabbled. ‘Work again.’
‘Oh, we thought you might have a secret girlfriend,’ Baby said in a poisonously sweet tone.
‘How ridiculous,’ said Dad. ‘What have I missed?’
‘Nothing,’ Jazz replied as the programme began.
‘This rap music is so rubbish,’ Rocky complained. ‘Why didn’t the TV company ask someone like me to write the theme music?’
‘Ooh, yes, you’d have done a great job, Rocks,’ Baby said adoringly. She leaned forward and made silent kissing noises at him until Auntie gave her a look. ‘Did you get me that silver bracelet, by the way?’
Rocky shook his head. ‘Nah, it was too expensive.’
Baby frowned. ‘You said you could afford it from your allowance.’
‘I know, but I spent the money on something else,’ Rocky muttered sheepishly.
‘You spent the money on something else?’ Baby repeated in a truly terrible voice.
‘Excuse me, we’re trying to watch TV here,’ Jazz grumbled.
‘It’s only a repeat of this week’s challenges,’ Baby retorted.
‘Anyway, I had less money this month because I’ve lent you loads,’ Rocky defended himself. ‘And you haven’t paid me back yet.’
‘Ooh, you fibber!’ Baby proclaimed indignantly. ‘I’ve only borrowed about ten quid.’
‘Thirty-five pounds fifty pence, actually,’ said Rocky.
‘Auntie, maybe you could knock their heads together and shut them up,’ Jazz suggested.
‘I am quite tempted,’ Auntie replied, looking sternly from one to the other. Baby and Rocky both subsided into sulky silence.
We were all quite on edge whe
n the moment arrived to find out who was leaving the house. Molly Mahal had dressed up in a sea-green and silver sari and was looking very calm and composed. But I wondered what she was really thinking.
‘I hope Molly gets evicted,’ Baby said eagerly. ‘She so thinks she’s it.’
‘She’s not bad-looking for an old woman,’ Rocky remarked.
‘Oh, don’t be daft,’ Baby screeched. ‘It’s all fake.’
‘Who cares?’ Rocky shrugged. ‘It’s better than looking at some wrinkly old hag with everything hanging down to her knees.’
‘Will you two shut up!’ I snapped, as Kieron King ceremoniously opened the golden envelope. ‘We’re going to miss it!’
‘And the celebrity leaving the house tonight is . . .’ Kieron King paused dramatically.
‘Anyway, the bracelet didn’t cost that much, Rocky,’ Baby said. ‘I bet you could have afforded it if you really wanted to.’
‘SHUT UP!’ we all shouted. I think even Dad and Uncle Jai joined in that time.
‘STEVE KELLY!’ Kieron King proclaimed.
‘I knew it!’ Geena exclaimed. ‘I knew Molly wouldn’t get voted out.’
‘Oh, no!’ Baby was looking very disappointed. ‘I love Steve Kelly. I don’t want him to go – he’s gorgeous.’
‘What do you mean, he’s gorgeous?’ Rocky demanded. ‘Do you mean you fancy him?’
‘Well, duh,’ Baby replied. ‘He’s good-looking and rich and he’s got a great body. What’s not to fancy? I bet Steve Kelly wouldn’t complain about buying me a measly little bracelet.’
‘Do you two ever stop arguing?’ Auntie enquired.
Rocky and Baby looked amazed.
‘This isn’t an argument,’ Baby said coldly. ‘This is a discussion.’
‘Yes, an argument’s when we throw things,’ Rocky added.
Steve Kelly was now emerging from the celebrity house to cheers and applause and a burst of fireworks.
‘Looks like you’re out of luck, Baby,’ Jazz remarked as a tall, blonde, unfeasibly long-legged woman in a very short skirt rushed towards the footballer. ‘That’s his girlfriend.’
‘Ooh, listen, she’s having a go at him about flirting with Romy Turner,’ said Geena gleefully. ‘And look! She’s whacking him with her designer handbag.’
I have to say, it was quite an entertaining end to the evening. And of course, I was really looking forward to the yard sale tomorrow. We had Dad’s donation, of course. But this would be our first chance to raise some money ourselves.
For our mum.
I stepped back and gazed at my stall with satisfaction. I had done a superb job, if I say so myself. The table was crammed with goodies and I’d labelled everything neatly with prices. It wasn’t a warm day but the sun was shining and it wasn’t raining, which was about as good as you can get in November.
I glanced over my shoulder. Geena and Jazz had set up their stalls in different parts of our garden and I was curious to see how much stuff they had. So I strolled over to Geena’s table first. She was just putting the finishing touches to her display.
‘Not a bad effort,’ I said, ‘but quite pitiful compared to mine, really.’
‘Shall we just wait and see who makes the most money?’ Geena enquired in a bored tone, rearranging a pair of diamanté and silver earrings at the front of her table.
I did a double take. ‘Those earrings!’ I yelled, making a grab for them. ‘They’re mine!’
Geena grabbed too, and she got there first.
‘So? You haven’t worn them for about six months at least!’
‘That’s such a lie!’ I retorted, trying to wrestle them from her grasp. ‘I wore them last week!’
‘OK, so where did I find them then?’ asked Geena.
‘I – er – ah . . .’ I was flummoxed.
‘See?’ Geena said triumphantly. ‘You didn’t even know where they were!’
‘Wait a minute . . .’ Jazz had come over to see what was going on. Now she was staring wide-eyed at a pair of pink shoes that had pride of place in the middle of Geena’s stall. ‘Those shoes are mine, Geena, you thieving little weasel!’
‘Oh, get over yourself!’ Geena snapped. ‘You don’t even wear them.’
‘I want them back!’ Jazz launched herself at the stall but Geena blocked her path.
‘Hey! What’s that?’ A green skirt hanging on Jazz’s table had caught my eye and I dashed over there, leaving Geena and Jazz fighting over the shoes. ‘Jazz, you sly little toad!’ I yelled, taking in the contents of her stall in one glance. ‘You’ve nicked loads of my stuff!’
Geena, who’d managed to repel Jazz’s attack by now, burst out laughing.
‘I don’t know what you’re laughing about, Geena,’ called Jazz, who’d sprinted over to take a look at my table. ‘’Cos Amber’s nicked heaps of your stuff.’
‘WHAT!’ Geena screeched. ‘Amber, I’m going to kill you!’
‘And good morning to you too.’ Auntie stepped out of the back door, followed by a smirking Baby. ‘I see you’ve all found out what’s been going on.’
‘You mean – you knew?’ Jazz gasped.
‘It was obvious to anyone with half a brain,’ Baby added with smugness.
‘You mean you have half a brain?’ Geena snapped. ‘You hide it well.’
Auntie shrugged. ‘None of you even realized that anything was missing,’ she pointed out. ‘Which just goes to show that you all have too much stuff anyway.’
Baby had come over to look at my stall. Under my astonished gaze, she swiftly picked out five of my best designer items (including three belonging to Geena and Jazz) and opened her purse.
‘I’ll have these,’ she said briskly. ‘And get a move on, I want to look at the other stalls before the customers turn up.’
‘I’m not selling to you!’ I spluttered.
‘Why not?’ Baby demanded.
‘Yes, why not?’ Auntie chimed in, hardly bothering to hide a smile. ‘Baby’s money is as good as anyone else’s.’
Still smirking, Baby held out twenty pounds. I snatched it grumpily and then she swept over to Geena’s stall.
‘Oh, by the way, I came round to tell you that there’s a lot of people in the driveway,’ Auntie went on, ‘and the queue goes halfway down the street.’
‘What!’ I couldn’t believe my ears. I dashed over to the wooden gates at the side of the garden and peered through a large crack.
As Auntie had said, the driveway at the side of the house was full of people. I could see Kim and Kiran, and my other friends from school, Chelsea and Sharelle. I also spotted Jazz’s mates, Shweta and Zoe, and Geena’s friends, Kyra Hollins and Hinnah Muteen. But there were also quite a few people I didn’t know at all.
‘Hi, Amber.’ A face appeared on the other side of the crack. I shrieked with fright and jumped back.
‘It’s only me,’ said George Botley. ‘Told you I’d get a load of people to come, didn’t I?’
‘And how did you manage it?’ I asked, trying not to sound too impressed.
George chuckled. ‘I told everyone that you, Geena and Jazz were selling off all your designer stuff,’ he said. ‘OK, maybe it was a bit of a fib, but there was almost a riot to be first in the queue this morning.’
‘George, it’s not as much of a fib as you think,’ I said bitterly.
‘Oh, right.’ George peered through the crack at me. ‘Hey, Amber, remember that bit in A Midsummer Night’s Dream when that guy Pyramid has to talk to his girlfriend through a crack in the wall?’
‘You mean Pyramus and Thisbe,’ I said.
‘Yeah, that’s him. Don’t they try and kiss each other through the crack?’
‘See you in a minute, George,’ I said, nobly resisting the temptation to push my finger through the hole and poke him in the eye.
I went back to the garden just in time to see a triumphant Baby bearing an armful of stuff away into the house.
‘Where’s Auntie gone?’ I asked. ‘I think we m
ight need some help here. There are about a hundred people outside waiting to charge in.’
‘She’s gone to get Dad and Uncle Jai,’ Geena replied, looking slightly nervous as the noise outside began to swell.
‘It’s ten o’clock,’ Jazz added. We all gazed at the gates, which were beginning to rock ever so slightly on their hinges. ‘If we don’t let them in soon, they’re going to break in.’
Auntie hurried out with Dad and Uncle Jai, who immediately went over and stationed themselves one at each gate.
‘Five – four – three – two – one!’ Dad yelled, and then they swung the gates open.
There was a cheer. Then a mass of people poured in like locusts and split into three groups, one heading for Jazz’s stall, one for Geena’s and one for mine. I gulped and braced myself as a crowd swept towards me.
‘Stop pushing!’ Auntie yelled, materializing at my side like a helpful genie. Dad and Uncle Jai had already gone to Geena and Jazz’s aid. ‘And calm down or we’ll throw you all out and the sale will be cancelled!’
There was a slight lull in the proceedings and I began taking money as fast as I could. My stall was stripped half bare in about ten minutes flat and I was kept so busy, even with Auntie’s help, that I didn’t have time to glance across at Geena and Jazz.
‘Hi, Amber!’ My mates Chelsea and Sharelle, flushed with victory and clutching their purchases, fought their way to the front of my table.
‘I got these from Geena’s stall,’ Chelsea went on, waggling a pair of white and black trainers under my nose. ‘Aren’t they yours? They look like they’ve hardly been worn.’
‘They haven’t,’ I said grimly. ‘I didn’t want to sell those but Geena nicked them without my knowledge.’
‘Oh dear.’ Chelsea didn’t look the slightest bit abashed. ‘Well, tell you what, I’ll wear them until your birthday and then I’ll give them back to you. It will save me buying you a present.’
‘How very kind,’ I said.
An hour and a half later the sale was finally over. Cold, battered, bruised and exhausted, we dragged ourselves indoors and collapsed on the sofa to count our takings. We left Dad and Uncle Jai to clean up, and Auntie, who obviously felt sorry for us, offered to make hot chocolate and cheese on toast. Baby was nowhere to be seen. Presumably she was upstairs gloating over her designer bargains.
Superstar Babes Page 6